


hello, I think I love you

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre and Courfeyrac meet at a rally-turned-riot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hello, I think I love you

They meet for the first time at a rally that has turned into a riot, years before either of them will ever start organising them instead of just participating. They're both a little too young to be out here on their own and Combeferre's mother thinks he's at the library studying, instead of weaving between people as passionate shouts for change turn into angry shouts for violence. He's glad that he'd thought to pack his first aid kit, but he'll be even happier if he doesn't actually need to use it.

He's almost out of the thick of it when he sees another guy his age in the middle of a fight. He's holding his own, but his opponent is a much larger police officer who doesn't seem to have any qualms about using the baton in his hand. The guy says something that Combeferre can't quite hear across the distance and the police officer brings his baton down with a loud thud and then does it again and again.

Combeferre runs forward without a thought, tackling the police officer from the side and shoving him away, grabbing the other guy by the hand and pulling him away before either of them are hit again. Combeferre runs and keeps running, not letting go of the hand in his until the other guy stumbles a bit.

"Ow, okay, okay. Can we stop for a second? I think—I think I might have broken something."

Combeferre immediately comes to a halt, turning around. The guy is bleeding from a cut on his forehead and has an arm around his middle, hunched over as he pants loudly. 

"I have a first aid kit in my bag," Combeferre tells him. "But if you're seriously injured, we should go to the hospital. Uh. I'm Combeferre, by the way. Sorry for just barging in like that, but he was hitting you and—"

"It's fine. Really. You kind of saved me, there. I'm Courfeyrac." He smiles and holds a hand out for Combeferre to shake. "Ugh, fuck the police, right?"

"Fuck the police who go beyond what they're actually meant to do and start attacking people and adding to the problems in the system that we're trying to fight," Combeferre replies. "The rest are just doing their job, I guess."

Courfeyrac laughs quietly, even though his breath hitches a little. "I like you."

Combeferre feels his ears growing hot. He adjusts his glasses, just to have something to do with his hands. "I… uh. I can clean up that cut on your forehead, if you want. And we can check if you've actually broken anything and need to go to the hospital."

Courfeyrac nods and they keep moving away from the riot, until they find a park with an empty bench for them to sit on. Combeferre pulls his first aid kit out of his bag, opening an antiseptic wipe and tending to the cut on Courfeyrac's forehead, putting a bandaid over it. 

"Thanks," Courfeyrac replies and before Combeferre can do or say anything, lifts his shirt up to have a look at himself. "Oh, I think I'm just bruised."

Combeferre's ears are _burning_ now, they must be bright red and he can only hope that Courfeyrac doesn't notice. "Is it okay if I take a look?"

"Sure," Courfeyrac says with a smile.

Combeferre gingerly touches Courfeyrac's sides, relieved when it's nothing but some light bruising. "You definitely haven't broken anything. You'll be fine."

"I'm feeling better already," Courfeyrac murmurs. "You know, I usually make guys buy me coffee before feeling me up in the middle of a park."

Combeferre is pretty sure that his entire face has gone red now. Courfeyrac laughs at him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. You're too cute, I couldn't resist."

Combeferre blushes harder. 

"I hope you have another bandaid handy," Courfeyrac says with a grin, "because I think I just scraped my knee falling for you."

"Oh my god," Combeferre laughs. "Cheesy pick-up lines? Really? Is this how it's going to be?"

"That's how it's going to be," Courfeyrac replies, his grip on Combeferre's shoulder tightening. "I mean hey, you're cute, you're really good at tackling people and considering that we were at the same rally just then, I'm guessing we have the same political leanings. That's a big plus."

"You're a dork," Combeferre mutters.

"Says the guy with an entire first aid kit in his bag."

"The first aid kit that _you're_ grateful for."

"Well, yeah." Courfeyrac smiles. "You're a resourceful dork."

Combeferre shakes his head, grinning too wide to pretend he's not utterly smitten. "Can I buy you a coffee? To make up for feeling you up in the middle of a park?"

"I don't think you have to _make up_ for anything. In fact, feel free to do it again. Whenever. But I'll never say no to coffee."

"Yes," Combeferre says, "I'm beginning to get that impression."

He doesn't realise just how close they were until they pull apart to get to their feet. Courfeyrac absently presses a hand to his side and Combeferre watches carefully, relieved when Courfeyrac doesn't seem to be in too much pain. Then Courfeyrac takes his hand, and Combeferre startles.

"What? We held hands most of the way here."

"Well, yes," Combeferre says and oh, his face is turning red again. Wonderful. "But that was… different. This is…"

"Deliberate?" Courfeyrac suggests, squeezing Combeferre's hand gently. "Me holding your hand because that's what I want to do? Well, actually, what I really want to do right now is kiss you, but I'm holding out for that coffee."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" Combeferre asks, squeezing Courfeyrac's hand in return as they start walking towards the nearest café. "Absolutely, completely ridiculous."

"Yeah, well, you like it," Courfeyrac replies. "Don't even deny that you do. I can see you grinning."

"Yeah, okay." Combeferre bumps their shoulders together. He's amazed by just how easy it is to get along with Courfeyrac but then again, he has a feeling that Courfeyrac is the kind of person that would be able to make anyone feel at ease. "This way, come on."

They end up sitting at one of the outside tables of the café and as soon as the waitress puts their coffee cups down and leaves, Courfeyrac leans over and presses a light kiss to Combeferre's lips. 

"Is that for the coffee?" Combeferre asks, his lips tingling.

"That was just for being you. This one's for the coffee." Courfeyrac kisses him again, his lips curved into a smile against Combeferre's.

Combeferre's mother isn't expecting him home for a while anyway. He reaches across the table, taking Courfeyrac's hand into his. Neither of them lets go for hours.


End file.
